Chaotic Action Man
Bluelighter
she toils in the dirt,
rain or shine,
tending to her little ones
who unlike me
never chose to move
a thousand miles away
to be apart from her.
her pointer and middles fingers
are bent at an angle,
slightly to the side.
she likes to laugh about it
saying the never ending rocks
that invades her garden
have slowly,
over time,
bent her fingers in revenge.
a curse put on her
for removing them from her soil.
ever since i can remember
her hands have been rough and strong.
even when she washed them carefully
put lotion on them diligently,
there have always been traces
of the garden on her hands.
she knows her days in the garden
are becoming limited.
her hands,
always so rough and so strong,
are weakening with age and arthritis.
and in the way she brushes that conversation aside
i know that her soul is in that little garden
and to not be able to work that land
would be a fate worse then any death.
“mother, when you are old and grey,
when your hands fail you, despite all you say,
i will move home.
together we can sit,
share never ending pots of tea,
and you can guide my hands
as i tend your garden
just as lovingly.”
rain or shine,
tending to her little ones
who unlike me
never chose to move
a thousand miles away
to be apart from her.
her pointer and middles fingers
are bent at an angle,
slightly to the side.
she likes to laugh about it
saying the never ending rocks
that invades her garden
have slowly,
over time,
bent her fingers in revenge.
a curse put on her
for removing them from her soil.
ever since i can remember
her hands have been rough and strong.
even when she washed them carefully
put lotion on them diligently,
there have always been traces
of the garden on her hands.
she knows her days in the garden
are becoming limited.
her hands,
always so rough and so strong,
are weakening with age and arthritis.
and in the way she brushes that conversation aside
i know that her soul is in that little garden
and to not be able to work that land
would be a fate worse then any death.
“mother, when you are old and grey,
when your hands fail you, despite all you say,
i will move home.
together we can sit,
share never ending pots of tea,
and you can guide my hands
as i tend your garden
just as lovingly.”
